Chatty Charlie

CHATTY CHARLIE

Chatty Charlie was two feet high
he was vinyl from head down to his little rubber shoes
except for his smartly tailored suit and snappy bowtie
bow tie daddy
with a string in the back he was dapper as fuck
but he had enough he had enough

Got up from the sofa and
put his adorable vinyl fingers to his mechanical mouth
ripped out a whistle
Talking Mike kicked his way out of his carrying case
Talking Mike had a sky-high matchstick of thatchy red hair
they both slowly trotted
like ventriloquist dummies always do to the kitchen

Chatty Charlie got on Talking Mike’s shoulders
raised up to the cutlery board
grabbed two sharp long knives
hopped back down and they
tramped on down to Barney’s bedroom

Barney snored
like a rusty saw across a Plymouth Barracuda car hood
Chatty Charlie slowly rotated his head over to Talking Mike
Talking Mike wanted to wink
but nobody was pulling his string

Chatty Charlie climbed to the left of the bed
Talking Mike climbed the right
plunging their knives into Barney
again and again and again
Barney screaming and bleeding
too late to fight

Blood soaking until it
looked like a scarlet waterbed
Chatty Charlie finally said, “Fuck you. That’s what you get for asking me about school, you bastard”.
Talking Mike said, “I did all the singing. All he did was drink water”.
never piss off a dummy with a knife

Ace Farren Ford & Andy Seven - Coaxial, Downtown Los Angeles (January 2020)

Submitted for your review is the last performance I gave before the COVID-19 specter hit the scene, playing tenor saxophone to Ace Farren Ford's alto saxophone at performance space Coaxial in downtown Los Angeles. It was a decent show, loud, wild and just long enough to stay in your memory. Enjoy. (Thanks to Daniel Kirby)

House Of A Thousand Mysteries

In 1995, former Mystery Science Theater host Joel Hodgson had a program called “TV Wheel” which featured a weird skit about a guy called Vick Lawston who manically plugged a magic/joke shop catalog. There was also a freaky chimp puppet called Pumpernickel who screamed all through the skit. To many younger viewers it was absolute dementia, but to the Baby Boomer dudes out there it was a fresh breath of nostalgia.

Because there really was a guy called Vick Lawston who advertised his magic catalogue in the back of comic books in the 1960’s, and, yes indeed, he had a crazy monkey mascot called Pumpernickel. The catalog was called “The House of A Thousand Mysteries” and it was the coolest book you could ever own. Even if you didn’t have enough money for the magic tricks or joke shop pranks, just the bitchen illustrations in the book were worth the price of the damn thing.

Vick Lawston’s magic shop operated out of Fort Lauderdale, Florida, and his catalog (50 cents – cheap) was jam packed full of tricks and pranks, at least ten per page, and this thing ran for close to 175 pages. While the cover of my catalog has a 1966 copyright date a lot of the photos of Vic and drawings in general look a lot closer to the Forties.

The catalog could be enjoyed as a stand-alone book with its depiction of rubbery men with faces like jackals either fighting baldness or obesity, while all the magicians depicted inside were unbelievably handsome, dashing and/or sensually exotic. All magician’s assistants were stunningly sexy goddesses of erotic pulchritude, but before Mom could accuse us of viewing smut, Lawston would toss in Pumpernickel to keep it all clean and boyish (hyuk!).

Many of the magic tricks sound like names of punk bands: Magic Producto Box, Ghost Card Trick, Enchanted Cards, St. Peter’s Lesson, The Obedient Silks, and Razor Blade Trick, to name a few. Sounds like the line-up at CBGB’s in 1976!

“House of 1000 Mysteries” was completely aimed at little boys, focusing on the two things they love the most: magic tricks and monkeys. The only thing I ended up ordering from the catalog was a book called “Houdini On Magic” by Walter B. Gibson. “Houdini On Magic” was a compilation of manuals written by the great magician on various tricks, escape routines, and his thoughts on the whole séance and spiritualism racket. If the name Walter B. Gibson sounds familiar, it’s because he was also known as Maxwell Grant, author of the legendary “Shadow” pulp series.

While I don’t purport to be an expert on magic and probably never wanted to be a serious magician I couldn’t forestall the seduction of mystery and saucy humor Vick Lawston presented to us feverish kids in the Sixties, and for that he’ll always be enamored as trash-culture titan extraordinaire, monkeys and magic and all.

Masters of Illusion: Jewish Magicians

The Skirball Cultural Center is a museum located far up the Santa Monica Mountains, so high up it’s located beyond Bel Air and The Getty Museum. The museum is located in an area is so remote it defies credibility but there is nothing so incredible as the world of magic, which is why I went there. The Skirball hosted an exhibit on Jewish magicians of the early 20th century titled “Masters of Illusion”. I thought it was a wonderful show.

In addition to beautiful show posters for magicians as diverse as Kellar, Jean-Eugene Robert Houdin, Goldin and the great Houdini there were props from the original acts, including magic wands, trick cards and balls, restraints and the inevitable strait-jacket. Magic as a form of popular entertainment was at its peak around the late 19th-early 20th century thanks to Vaudeville, Music Halls and Carnivals. Their greatest rival was this new thing called movies, which eventually signed up Harry Houdini who starred in several mystery-sci fi serials, which were screened at The Skirball that afternoon.

A lot of pieces were on loan from Ricky Jay, a great magician who’s worked in millions of movies like “House of Games” and “The Grifters”, the ultimate sleight-of-hand movies you need to catch up on. Others were loaned out from The Magic Castle, an invitation-only club that exclusively showcases magic acts.

Many anecdotes on Houdini were posted at the exhibit, but my favorite was the one about Houdini’s attendance at a séance at writer Arthur Conan Doyle’s home. Doyle’s wife was a big fan of the occult and conducted a séance where Houdini’s mother supposedly contacted him from the grave. Houdini was skeptical of the ceremony and patiently sat through the whole bogus affair. Needless to say, the ceremony reached a new pitch of outrage when after the séance Mrs. Doyle handed him a letter “written” by his mother from the great beyond. It was in English; strike one, Houdini’s mother only spoke to him in Hungarian, their native language. It also had a crucifix scrawled on it; strike two, Houdini was a rabbi’s son, so he came from an orthodox Jewish home. Houdini exposed Mrs. Doyle as a fraud and doubled his efforts at exposing fraudulent séances, many at the time targeted at bilking rich widowers of their money, as fictionalized in the great movie “Nightmare Alley”.

I don’t think magic will ever leave us as a major entertainment form. We still have conjurers like Penn & Teller and that weird TV goth guy whose name escapes me still doing the sleight of hand, and some people are dumb enough to believe Harry Potter’s a real magician, so the art of magic still lurks among us.

Another exhibition recently attended was the “Beauty Culture” show at the Annenberg Photography Space in Century City.  I thought the Annenberg was a gorgeous space to view photography. On display were diverse images from the past century with icons either represented by movie stars, i.e. Marilyn, Bardot, Harlow, Audrey, etc. or supermodels, i.e. Twiggy, Jean Shrimpton, Lauren Hutton, Heidi Klum, etc.  I enjoyed discovering photographers I was previously unaware of, like Horst P. Horst and the amazing Marvin Sokolsky = check out his floating balloon series, absolutely amazing. And as I said there was diversity in images of beauty, whether it was photos of tribal beauties, mid-century models still working into their seventies and plus-sized beauties, to name a few. The show runs through November, admission is free, and is highly recommended.